Tiller of heart's soil

A firm hand bleeds on bristle deeds horns of a crime now stale

From doubts seeds grow thistle weeds, thorns to tear hope's veil

Red stains on martyr fingers lingers pulling strangling plants

Soil wet with blood and sweat from a savior in farmer's pants

Crucified on his hoe so plants will grow in earth broken

His word unheard in dust interred, torn lost in the unspoken